Crybaby Origins
by BabyPinecone
Summary: Everything has a beginning. And when death doesn't mean the end, something else starts to grow in it's place. R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Left 4 Dead / Left 4 Dead 2 or anything to do with them.

* * *

"It was…now, let me think- the 26th of September, I think, but don't quote me on that. Of course, by now, there had been stories of murders and lunatics ravaging the country. Notice I use the word stories- none of us here believed them. Why should we? This is a peaceful little place, children playing on the streets and lemonade stalls dotted on every corner. We don't want no nightmares about blood thirsty maniacs ruining this atmosphere. But…oh, but but but. _But_, something happened. Louise Racken got back from visiting her mom in Washington, and at the coffee evening that day I heard from a little birdie that she had a bandage around her neck. Now, all of us there, we aren't no gossips, but I'll tell you this, she was known for being real…friendly. With fellas. So we passed it off. But then the next day in the store, she stumbled in, and I was like 'someone hit the Jack' but Ms Peacock from number 19 said that Louise was no drinker, but _then _she found Mr Robinson, and how she latched onto his neck! Now, I was all 'oh my God' but then blood started to stain his pretty white shirt, and she still didn't let go! Well, I'll tell you straight, I liked Louise, but there's a line, and she leaped over it! So I took a bottle of something off of the shelf (and if anyone tells you it was in my bag, that's just a big fat lie) and I damn right brought it down on Louise's blonde peach head. She stopped harassing Mr Robinson alright, but don't you know, Mr Robinson then started to come onto _me! _Seeing as Chuck would not appreciate that (thought I don't say I wasn't tempted alright), I pushed him away, but he just went crazy! So, I ran out of the store and I told officer Kowalski and I went home. And then… oh, wait…let me think…"

"Tina! Tina, get down here!" Ah, damn.

"I'm coming!"

"Stop talking into that god damn recorder and get down here! The truck's here!"

Goddamn Chuck. I love him through and through, but sometimes he is an asshole. I should have gone with Petra and Frank as soon as they offered, but this heart of mine is too soft, you know? Goddamn Chuck. As I walk out of the bathroom and down the stairs, I can see his face is screwed up like a dog's butthole. He hates to be kept waiting, and don't I know it!

"I'm here, honeypie. Take that expression off, that truck'll wait a couple of second for little old me, won't it?" Too late I heard the exhaust fumes kick out into the street, and too darn late Chuck ran out, waving his hands around like a headless chicken. God, it was funny.

"I don't know how you can laugh in a situation like this!" He rants over and over as I put little Hayley and Winston into the car an hour later.

"Not in front of the children, sweetie." My precious babes don't want to hear dirt like that, especially not from their father. It sullies them, and I don't want sinners for kids. Not yet, anyway.

"Don't worry, hon. We'll make it to the evac. point, no problem." I try to convince him, but he doesn't seem so sure. I don't know why he insists on inching the car round each corner and ignoring the red lights, but no one noticed. Because I can't see anyone anywhere, and everything seems to be a complete tip. Bins turned over, benches battered…

"Mommy, why is that man on the floor?"

"I don't know, sweetie. Don't look." I don't want either of my children to see the things this man was displaying. Nothing…private, if you know what I mean, but- these things I see through the window- they're red. Red, and long, and pink, and slimy and…

Luckily we move away pretty quickly. But now, at the back of my mind, a little niggle is growing.

As we turn the corner, I can hear something. And I feel something- a shaking. Screaming. Running footsteps-

"Mommy! What is that?!"

A huge ape creature, turning. The evac truck turned over and mangled corpses littering the street. I hear a door opening and Chuck's gone, and I look back, to tell Winston and Hayley to move, but they're gone, and it's only me in the car, and I can't move, and this ape, full of muscle is coming closer and it's a human, and the car is high above the ground and I feel a weight on my head and-

* * *

R&R always needed, next chapter coming soon. BP


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Left for Dead or Left for Dead 2, only this fanfic!

* * *

You'd love me to say 'it was a normal day', wouldn't you? That would be the cherry on the cake, I guess. Well, it wasn't a normal day, so there- god, even through this…this apocalypse, I've still been able to retain a childish sense of humour, however disturbed that may be.

The infection had already broken out. I was in my small apartment doing some work, listening to the radio, when I heard screams from outside. Now, even through the infection had grown after the last week, we were told it was all under control and not to worry. Even though I saw evac trucks every morning on the way to the office. Even though I noticed I saw no familiar faces in the broadcasting department. The newsreaders had gone, the talkshow hosts had gone, the lead actors and actresses in the soaps had gone. There were rumours. People said they had got ill, they had taken a train up North, they had gone on holiday…however people explained their absence, it didn't stop any of us noticing that helicopter blades could be heard whirring on the roof of the ZDL TV skyscraper. Day after day, until three days ago, when all the employees left were told to work from home while maintenance was being carried out on the building.

I suppose since that day things began to become slightly abnormal. I would walk down to the store, and the cashier would have changed. Rick was no where to be seen, and no-one knew where the friendliest shelf stacker I knew, Carlos, had gone. People were disappearing. I stopped going out. I stayed in my apartment, phoning people instead of meeting up in the coffee house to discuss deadlines. Amanda and Jesse stopped coming round for lunch on Sunday. They love their old mom's lunches, so that's when I started to move around more, a doubt forming in the pits of my mind. I brought out canned food, found my last boyfriend's biker boots, unearthed the gun my ex husband had given me last year as a birthday present. I found my favourite wool jacket. I wore jeans more. I stopped putting on make up, and I pulled out every first aid bit of equipment I could find. I didn't know what I was doing then, but now…thank god for that little instinct I had all but forgotten about. That little survival twinge that kept me on my feet. Because on that morning when I heard those screams, it was like being in a dream. I knew exactly what to do.

The boots were on, my mobile in my pocket, Jesse's old ice hockey stick in my hands, my gun in the cowboy dress up holster I had worn last Halloween, canned food in my backpack, first aid kit in my backpack, a small photo of me, Jesse, Amanda and Lewis in my pocket, and three pairs of fresh underwear.

My name is Josie, I'm a divorced mom, I have three children and I'm 42 - and I am not ready to die. Not without taking a couple of hell bound bastards with me.

* * *

R & R appreciated! BP


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Left for Dead or Left for Dead 2, only this fanfic!

* * *

Technically, I shouldn't call them zombies. They're actually humans who have been infected with some kind of flu, disease, semi-lethal pathogen- whatever. They don't register pain that much, they want more raw steak than any buffalo house can supply, and it doesn't matter how much of it they eat, they still want more. Besides, if I were to call them infected humans or something even more of a mouthful, they would be harder to beat to a pulp. I can identify with them if they're humans. You're angry, so what if you want to take a bite out of someone? They just take it a bit too far. But, if I call them zombies, they're more alien- I don't delve into their history, so I can just kill them like they're spiders. So I'm going to call them zombies for the rest of this transcript, and if you have a problem with that, you can join with them and boycott me as I walk down the street, alright?

When I got outside, I saw the truth the radio had been trying to cover up. The common outside of my set of flats was swarming with them. They were limping, crawling, running, shambling along- they were everywhere, so much so that I felt like emptying my gun into my earhole. One was even on top of the bus shelter. And those that weren't zombies- well, I bet they wish they had the tolerance of pain those half-dead maniacs did. They were being torn apart, chased, eaten (when they weren't always dead), screamed at, threatened- lawyers would have a field day if the zombies didn't have an infectious little zit of a thing inside of their blood. So, first step for a mom like me who's had a few fights outside of a bad bar in a dodgy street, try to go unnoticed. It gave me pain to see these innocent people being hurt, sure, but I wasn't going to act the hero. So think of me as a coward, I don't care; because at the end of the day I'm here telling you this and _not_ six feet under. So, I trotted by on the sidewalk, keeping my gardening gloves held tight on the hockey stick, checking behind me every now and again. I got as far as the convenience store on Jody Street, and then I had to stop, because there was this pulsating crowd herding round an evac truck. At first, it looked like they were survivors, clambering to get into the truck- their arms flailing, screaming, trying to get a hold of the back of the van, but as I got closer, I realized the only survivors left were on top of the truck, clinging on for dear life and crying so much you'd think Madonna had died or something.

I couldn't walk away at that now, could I? These were grown men and women, moms and dads, crying, holding children to their tender chests- I may be a coward, but under my yellow skin lies a heart, believe it or not. So I did what they do in movies- I gripped the gun, raised my arm above my head and fired. I had forgotten how loud the shot was! But the ringing in my ears didn't distract my brain from getting these old chicken legs working and running them down the street as the dozen stimuli (if you want to get technical) cantered after me.

To cut a long story short, I lost them by throwing myself down a manhole and covering it up sharpish, but I soon cursed myself for doing it. I stunk of…many disgusting things, so now if those zombies were as animalistic as I thought they were, they could sniff me out even if a pair of clothes pegs were stapled over their nostrils.

When I had had a breather and had a peek at my map, I made a mental plan:

1. Go and get Jesse and Amanda

2. Find Ed and Susie

3. Try and get a band of survivors together

4. Get a truck and drive somewhere safer.

Lewis, thank god, was away in Texas so his girlfriend could visit her parents, but Amanda was at college and Jesse was probably either working at the garage or hiding in Ed's bar (Ed being my ex-husband and Susie being his wife). The used car dealership was just past the bar, but it was practically on the other side of the city, so it wasn't going to be easy getting there.

But then again, if it had all been easy, I wouldn't have anything to write, and you wouldn't be reading this transcript now, would you?

* * *

Read and review , please- BP


End file.
